


Magic Saviour

by Fire_Bear



Series: APH Yuri Week 2016 [5]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: (from a couple of centuries ago), APH Yuri Week 2016, Day 5, F/F, French Mythology, Ghosts, Magic, Magic-Users, Murder, Mythology - Freeform, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7286551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Bear/pseuds/Fire_Bear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alice is on her own in France, looking forward to her flight to her coven. On her way across a bridge, however, she finds herself with more problems as someone appears before her, clearly in need of help...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic Saviour

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers:
> 
> I’ve not been to Rouen but I went with what I found on Google Maps.  
> The comments about Jeanne d’Arc are entirely fictitious.  
> I don’t actually know much about the Hundred Years War which I mention.  
> Dead bodies and a murder are discussed but that’s a given, what with the subject matter.  
> The French is probably wrong cause I’ve forgotten a lot of my high school French. I used Google Translate by feeding it only a few words at a time and making sure they translate both ways.
> 
> NB: Hilde = fem!Norway. Ruxandra = fem!Romania. Fem!France’s name is something I picked from a list I found online instead of doing what I normally do (call her Francois).

On the encouragement of her new coven, Alice was in France. More specifically, she was staying in Rouen, visiting the place of Joan of Arc, suspected by many covens to have been a witch, despite being religious. Considering the events of the Hundred Years War, it was widely believed that she had used her magic to help her troops. Alice had already visited both the Eglise Sainte-Jeanne-d'Arc, the monument in the grounds there and the Historial Jeanne d'Arc – everything she had flown to France to do.

With another day left before her flight to Hilde's home country, Alice found herself walking along the Seine. She found the Promenade Charcot and decided to see how far it and its connecting paths went in each direction. Eventually, she found herself back where she started with dusk falling and the cars on the road lessening. Since she had nothing to do but go drink wine in her hotel room, she decided to cross one of the bridges and take a picture of the view from the middle with the intention of sending it to Ruxandra to show her how bored she was.

Only, when she reached the middle, she felt the familiar tingle of residual magic. Either something extremely big had happened there or a ghost was present. She hoped it wasn't a ghost: it always saddened her when she came across ghosts, unable to do much about their situation. A supernatural fog fell and confirmed Alice's suspicions: she had wandered into someone's haunt.

From the fog, stepped a woman. She was dressed in a long, white dress which flowed around her hips but hugged her ample breasts. Her dark hair was tied up in a bun, pinned with an ornament shaped like a lily. Grey eyes were set in a perfectly proportioned face and Alice could only stare in surprise. Why was someone so beautiful haunting a bridge? She had never seen such a gorgeous ghost.

Whatever she was doing there, she approached Alice and held her arms out. At first, Alice thought she wanted a hug – every White Woman was different, after all, and some had moved on from just that, their loneliness from the centuries cured with that action. So Alice stepped up and opened her arms wide as well. That seemed to amuse the woman who shook her head and spun around. Realising what she wanted, Alice blanched.

“Really?” she asked the woman who merely cocked her head, staring at Alice intently. Sighing, Alice said, “Oh, all right. You lead, then.”

They slotted together effortlessly, Alice's hand on the woman's shoulder and her other one held tightly by something with such a light touch it didn't seem to be there. The woman's other hand was probably on Alice's waist but she couldn't feel it either. Nodding once, the woman began to guide Alice around in a waltz. At first, she took wide steps so that they moved towards the end of the bridge Alice had come from. Faint music could be heard, lulling Alice into a peaceful, thoughtless state. Such was Alice's contentment that she placed her head on the ghost's shoulder. Noticing this, the woman pulled Alice in close, letting her arms encircle Alice's waist, moving them around in a tight circle. Alice unthinkingly wrapped her arms around the woman's neck.

Finally, the music stopped and so did they. The ghost stepped backwards and out of reach, leaving Alice to sway for a moment until she regained her balance. She blinked and looked up at the woman, only to see that the fog was wrapping around her, pulling her back to the ghost realm. Alice's eyes widened: this wasn't what happened when ghosts moved on.

“Wait! Wasn't that enough?” she demanded, stepping forward. The fog receded a little but the woman's image remained faded. She shook her head and Alice frowned. “Why not? What else is keeping you here?”

That was enough for the ghostly energy to dispel the fog. The woman came forward, walking towards Alice – and then straight through her. Turning, Alice found herself facing the middle of the bridge. Ahead of her, the ghost was walking along, wearing rather expensive, 19th Century clothing. Coming towards her was another figure, another woman with pale hair who dressed much more lavishly than Alice's ghost.

When they reached each other, the ghost gave the mystery woman a greeting who shouted at her in return. Alice was surprised, sure that she was watching something from an era where politeness was prided above anything else in the nobility. Why was the woman being so loud and horrible? She moved closer, noting how angry the blonde woman looked. The ghost retorted calmly but the newcomer still shouted, escalating the argument. Eventually, the blonde became so agitated that she shoved at the ghost who retaliated. Struggling against each other on the bridge, it wasn't long until the blonde pushed the White Woman off the bridge. Alice cried out in shock, much like the echo in the fog, clearly the voice of the dead woman. The one still on the bridge stared in horror at what she had done until it sunk in and she looked left and right. Clearly no-one was in sight for she breathed a sigh of relief, straightened her hair and walked off, leaving the woman's body to be washed down the Seine.

Scene over, the fog swirled around Alice before retracting to show the woman standing in her white dress. She gestured at the side of the bridge and Alice looked towards it. Whatever had happened between the two women, with no witnesses and with no-one to miss the woman, she would never have been discovered. Perhaps the blonde had told someone the woman had left to be with someone else, causing them to make no effort in finding her. If no-one had found her body, nobody would ever know about the injustice done to her...

“Where _is_ your body?” Alice asked the ghost.

After pointing straight down into the Seine, the ghost mimed pulling things apart and Alice understood. Her body must have broken apart at some point, making it even more impossible for people to find her. As such, Alice had no way to help the woman. Unless...

“I think I have a way to restore your body,” Alice told the ghost. “Stand back – I don't know what will happen if you get too close.” Once the ghost had nodded and done as she was told, Alice raised her hand and held it over the edge of the bridge. Since she had never cast a restoration spell on a dead body before, Alice decided to use the Celtic spell instead of the Latin. She chanted it in a low voice, keeping her eyes open for anything untoward. Just as she finished, she heard a gasp from the ghost behind her. Beginning to turn, she saw a flash of bright light out of the corner of her eye and, once she was facing the ghost, she had to blink away the after-image.

Vision cleared, she realised that the fog had gone and the cars were visible again. She wondered if anyone had noticed her sudden reappearance. Then she realised that the ghost was still present, staring down at herself. Alice watched as the white dress slowly changed to a pale yellow while her hair grew darker still till it was a dark brown. When the woman looked up, Alice's eyes widened: her eyes had changed from grey to a dark blue, enticing and pretty. The witch was sure that the woman was the most beautiful she had ever seen: she could feel her heart beating faster and faster the longer the woman stared back.

“Je suis vivant,” said the woman, formerly a ghost.

“You're alive,” breathed Alice, surprised at her own powers. How had she done that? Or had something else been in play? And what should they do now?

“Qui es-tu?”

Recognising 'tu' and the questioning tone in the woman's voice, the witch quickly smiled and held out her hand. “I'm Alice. And you are?”

Placing her hand delicately in Alice's, the woman answered, “Anette.”

“Well, Anette, I'm not sure why you're back in your body but-”

“Je ne comprends pas.”

Alice stared. Then she remembered that the woman had come from 19  th  Century Rouen and may not have actually learnt English; even if she had, she may be used to a more archaic way of speaking. Sighing, Alice searched her memory for her high school French. “Par ici,” she said, haltingly. She beckoned and began to turn but stopped when Anette rolled her eyes.

“Parfait. Juste ma chance. Bien sûr, elle est l'anglaise.”

Narrowing her eyes, Alice tried to parse through her limited French. Whatever it was, the sarcastic tone didn't bode well. After a moment, she decided to forget about it and turned her back on Anette, trusting the newly alive woman would follow. As she did so, she rooted around her bag for her phone and pulled it out, immediately dialling a familiar number.

When it was answered, she said, “Hello, Rux. I have a bit of a problem involving a ghost, a restoration spell and a Frog...”

**Author's Note:**

> She then had to explain that no, there wasn’t a real frog, it was an insult, etc.
> 
> Anette was a dames blanches, a French type of White Woman ghost who, when meeting a handsome young man, demand a dance. If they don’t they get chucked away. Presumably it hurts. They’re mostly found in Normandy which is why Alice is in Rouen.
> 
> French translations: Actually, they’re all pretty simple - I’m sure you’ll know what they mean. “Je suis vivant” is the only one I think people would struggle with and means, “I am alive.”
> 
> I think that’s it. Except that ‘coven’ just means a group of practising witches/whatever and so fem!Prussia can do magic, so can Anette since she used to be a ghost and fem!Spain cause I like working in trios.


End file.
